


Look Me In the Eyes & See How I Die

by titus (lostillusion)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Past Child Abuse, References to Depression, but yeah this is really self indulgent sorry, just a lot of thinking in Azura's pov, ships might be added lmao?? depends on how this goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7232041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostillusion/pseuds/titus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azura holds the charcoal tightly between her fingers, black lines printing themselves on to the paper and she wonders with a sudden sadness if she would be able to capture the light of humanity correctly this time.</p><p>(Fates in the eyes of a songstress who has seen so much)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Me In the Eyes & See How I Die

In the coolness of Valla, Azura found a childhood home with her mother and her father. Both happy, if not anxious to live as a full family. Her mother, a goddess among her people, possessed a golden heart and a will to better herself and her people, even with the looming dangers they faced. Her mother, who sang lullabies that would forever haunt Azura to bed. Her mother, if she could be described in a few short words, was kind and beautiful and the best Queen the kingdom could’ve had during those times of turmoil. Azura loved her with every ounce of her being, and the small girl knew the woman, despite her position and her standing, loved her with the same intensity.

Then there was her father, who was kind to a fault, seeing all the hopes and dreams in everyone of the kingdom whether they were human or not. A kind man, who despite it all kept compassion and hope alive. He always saw the best in everyone, even if he was pushed away— even if he was to die at the hands of someone he loved, he would have smiled for them anyway. Her father was the type of man who would look at his murderer straight in their eyes and say with the brightest smile, “I love you,” without even hesitating. His love for his people and family was eternal, it seemed. Azura adored him as he adored her, and often they held each other in a tight hug whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Despite her love for them, there was also a pressure, a burden, that laid itself in her mind whenever she slept. Even when she was barely able to write, she knew of the responsibility that would be pushed into her hands. The princess saw the shadows they casted as she watched them in a light only a child would, and the young girl prayed to the gods to be given a percent of what her parents had. She did not care if it was her mother’s passion, her father’s kindness, or everything in between; if Azura held a piece of them, even if it was one percent, she would ask for nothing else.

Yet, that happiness and light were taken from her in the form of a mad God. Her father, who once believed with all of his heart, was no more; the only remains they received was ash and a hole left in his absence. Instead, her mother was left to mourn with what little assistance their dying kingdom and their leftover family could give. Azura had nothing to soothe her wounds, and as the young princess stared at her youthful hands, she cursed herself from the bottom of her heart.

It was the first feeling of uselessness she ever encountered, and it stuck with her even after the phase from childhood to adulthood blurred. 

* * *

In the darkness of Nohr, Azura only remembers a small chill passing through her bones as she and her mother wandered around the strange land. Her mother, still golden and bright, found solace with a man who tried to give her the best with what little he had. The king found love in others, but neither Arete nor Azura found any issue with his actions. The dark king’s loneliness could be given life, for it was so large and consuming that it ate at him every day. Arete only wished him happiness, and if it was in the company of other women, that was fine. Azura supposed that she too wished for the man’s happiness, if only to make her mother happy.

Lord Garon was a steady man who grew cold in the face of others’ expectations. The man had so much to give, but so much that could be stolen. Azura faintly remembers him in the shadow of her birth father, and she remembers every night where he looked at her with an level of fear that any child would misunderstand for hate. But the young princess saw a sense of care from the king, however cold he may seem. She often thought that he kept his distance from her out of safety. Whether it was for her or for him, she never did find out.

Despite the kindness he gave to her family, there was always a coldness and hesitation that she observed in his onyx eyes. Azura found this coldness the strongest when her mother sang her last ballad and Lord Garon couldn’t take it anymore. He hid his heart, to his children and to Azura, covering himself behind the face of a fierce and hateful man. Azura was left alone to face the coldness of Nohr, without any to fall back on. Her step-siblings could not approach her, and she could not approach them. The young Azura could not approach any of the Nohrian inhabitants. The only one she could approach within the castle was one who took form in an infant that seem to be blessed in light.

When Princess Elise was born, it was the only time that one of Garon’s extended family allowed her to touch their child. The mistress herself was a deranged, loony woman, but seemed kind enough if Lord Garon wasn’t present. However, it was the milkmaid that Azura found herself attached to. The servant had seen Azura wandering the castle as she often did as a child, and invited the young princess towards Elise’s nursery. Cautious as the little girl was, she could not help but yearn to see the babe that the maid had promised, if only to grasp at the idea of being an “older sister”. The princess had made sure to note strategical escape passages before following the woman quietly into the room.

It was there that she saw Elise for the first time, and how she was enamored by the baby. The little princess of Nohr held a strength that Azura could not identify, and as she held the child into her arms she could not help but cry. The princess, to this day, cannot fathom why she cried that small afternoon. Perhaps she was awed by the miracle that was a child, or maybe her mental pain cracked down on her as she held such a small life in her two hands; the two useless hands that could comfort not even her mother. Yet, little Elise was so happy to be in her arms, and the warmness of the child and the room held onto her like a warm blanket. The maid only smiled at her tears and continued her routine with quiet hums and dums, giving privacy to the world Azura was creating at that exact moment. The invisible royal stayed there for what seem like hours, holding Elise and crying as the baby cooed at her.

It was the first and last time she allowed her emotions to overwhelm her.

After seeing Elise for the first time, and being allowed to see her for days pass, Azura held a new hope in Nohr that she did not believe could foster in her heart. She felt a small resemblance of happiness in that small room, but as she continued to visit, the young princess realized that she had to watch her steps. Everyone could be watching within Nohrian walls, and despite the state of her invisibility in others’ eyes, Azura made herself scarce with her visits to the infant. If only to protect the smaller noble from the gazes she faced every day.

In her stay among the Nohrians, the adopted child made sure to observe everyone in order to gain an advantage over them for her own protection. Everyone wanted her out, still broken over the Lady Katerina’s passing. The young princess knew that she was unwelcomed, especially after her mother’s death—she was useless in the royal court and battlefields, holding no position other than simple obligation.

The rising tensions between Lord Garon’s concubines were not of help.

The Nohrian resistance against her stay was growing and growing, like filling an already full vase. They were tired of waiting for a brighter day. The royal family were closing their eyes to the abuses of the corrupt kingdom and finding a blind hope in the lost memories of brighter days. Garon was decaying and dying and _ no one stood up in order to stop it _ .

Azura was tired, and so were they.

The servants scattered about found a small amusement in playing mind games with her, trying to push her away and further to the sharpen edge that were Nohrian cliffs. When they had grown tired of their psychological games on her, what with their gossip and glares, they decided to go with a full out approach: beating and whipping her. Often she could not go without a threat being shouted to her, her hands and arms and legs whipped for spilling or bumping into something or someone. Though it proved to help improve her posture, the pain would not leave her mind even when the scars healed.

However, even with their increased physical abuse, it did not decrease their verbal tools. As a child to have a dance with discrimination, because although she was not quite Hoshidan people knew she wasn’t Nohrian either, she was judged and judged and judged. A predicament that only increased as she tried harder to hold her pride; to not break because of some petty words and lashes. It increased their rage, her insolence never forgotten as the rebelling servants begin so push her further and further into a bubble.

It was then she learned the true emptiness of loneliness.

 

Azura began running away, fleeing to near-by towns to find some haven to save her, to soothe her wounds and hide her tears. Though she knew it was not safe to continue these actions, it helped lessen the burden on her heart and mind. In her desperation for peace, she did not care if she were to die because of her selfish actions. Azura needed something,  _ anything _ in order to see the world her mother so dearly loved. 

The world in which her mother, the ever selfless queen, died for. 

The little girl would sing to herself, trying to keep her memory alive. It soothed Azura as if her mother was still with her, holding her regal hand and brushing her slim fingertips against Azura’s cheek. The mother she made up in her mind would still be breathing, her chest moving up and down slowly as the woman smiled down on her, whispering words of comfort. In Azura’s mind, she would be loved and be the pride and joy of a woman she respected with all of her heart. 

In one of her escapades, she ran to another town in search for comfort of another day hidden behind a wall of stone. That day was particularly harsh with unlucky events such as: being whipped six times at her wrists due to her attempt to reach a book from a shelf and causing it to fall. Her legs were sore, as the servants who found her forced her to clean up the entire room in their place, and she had yet to sit or even crouch for hours. The princess had no room to complain, they said, for she was the one to make the mess and she had to learn to take responsibility for her own actions. Azura easily followed their orders quickly and swiftly in hopes that they would leave her alone afterwards, but yet another beating occurred when she bumped into one of the maids, spilling scalding hot tea on her dress. The maid had looked at her in disgust and rage that did not quite extinguish itself as Azura ran away from the lashing that took place soon afterwards.

She shuddered to remember the beatings, trying to not look at her arms or barefooted feet. The girl huddled behind one of the houses and began to sing softly, trying to keep her tears away and her breath soft. Her arms stung and her legs were sore and bruised. Once, the princess considered them marks of pride in admiration of her father, who too bore marks on his skin. In fact, whenever she got injured she would show them to her mother when she was still alive.

 

“Look, Mama!” Azura shouted in that warm place of Valla where mountains curved over their heads in a protective shield. She had rushed into the forest looking for flowers to give to her mama and papa, when she got scratched by a stray bird she tried to catch. Its talons had scratched her, but it wasn’t too deep, the skin had already healed and a scab was already forming. “I got scratched, see?” She exclaimed while her mother clicked her tongue in the manner all mothers do when exasperated, and patched the little girl softly and slowly, scolding her in light tones.

Arete looked at her with sparkling eyes, amused but worried, “little babe, do you realize what this means?” She gestures to the marks on Azura’s skin and the little girl smiles, not knowing what she was getting at. “You got hurt, and Mama doesn’t want you to. Getting hurt is bad, you see?”

Azura responded, making sure to keep her voice low and slow, “but Mama, getting hurt also means I lived to see another day, doesn’t it?”

Arete, surprised and seemingly jolly, laughed at her remark. She patted down Azura’s hair and kissed her forehead with a soft hum of a song both mother and daughter knew far too well. “I suppose it does, in a way, but don’t try to get hurt too much, okay? You’ll worry Mama at this rate.”

The little princess had hummed an “okay”, swinging her legs to and fro from the chair she sat in, still exhilarated about how the scratched marked her skin and what the contrast made it looked like. In her childish joy, she was proud of it, because it was an odd first that Azura didn’t know what it truly meant.

Looking at her own scars and bruises as she snuffed out her cries, she faintly begins to despise her younger self for ever being proud of something so silly, so insignificant. But as the older princess looked at her blooming bruises, shifting from a blue to a dark purple, she admitted in a twisted way that it made her feel prettier as looked like she was turning into the night sky.

 

Then, a handful of weeks later when the scars were still healing, Azura met a bright boy, who smiled at her with a sunshine she could not believe lived in Nohr. It was almost bright as Elise’s, and that memory of the babe brought tears to her eyes once more. Though their first meeting wasn’t all too bright as he later became.

It was raining, and it stung her open wounds like poison. Azura hurriedly hid under a place with a roof, shivering and shaking from the cold rain. It just so happened that she hid under a food vendor, still warm from its overuse that day. 

As Azura stared at the small, almost quaint place, a blonde boy poked his head out from around the vendor. He looked at her with bright, blue eyes as she held herself, trying to stop the shaking of her arms.

“Are you alright?” The boy whispered quietly, as if someone were to hear them at any moment. “Why are you wet from the rain? Shouldn’t you be inside, at your house?”

Azura immediately said, “I have no home to go back to,” and regretted it almost instantaneously. She looked down, not wanting to look at the pity the boy probably had on his face. There were splashes, and disgusting sounds of wet boots and when the princess looked up, the boy was gone. The girl wondered if him leaving without a care was worse than showing sympathy for her. Azura slid down against the wall of the vendor, folding her legs so that her torso wouldn’t hit the ground. It stung, of course, mud touching soft wounds wasn’t the most pleasant soothing remedy, but the princess couldn’t bear to stand up anymore. She had grown tired of all the standing she did in and out of the castle.

She had begun to doze off when the boy came back. Azura must have looked at him with confusion as he laughed, reaching out to her: “I had to tell my parents we had another guest today.” 

The boy stayed with her, holding her hand and cracking jokes when appropriate. She later learned that the boy was named Arthur, and he was a very sunny person. Even with the rain pouring down on him (he lent his coat to Azura, because she “needed it a lot more than him” or so he says. But the little princess wasn’t too sure on that, after all, he fell into six ditches, tripped over three sticks, two stones, and fell into a puddle around five times. It was hard to watch.) he was smiling. No matter what, he said, as long as she was fine so was he. It was cute that he cared for her safety so much, as they were strangers to each other, but it was a strange, unfamiliar feeling that pooled in Azura’s stomach. She couldn’t name this kindness of his that nearly brought her to tears, and in her thoughts she wondered if she should be concerned for that emptiness where that kindness should be filled.

Her thoughts, though intruding and standing in the forefront of her mind, were erased as Arthur showed her to his home. It was small, almost quaint, and was something that could only be described as a “home”. The princess, as bitter as her life had been, felt her privilege crawl on her skin like sins under holy water and she looked to Arthur who kept that same smile on his face.

Arthur’s family, though (pleasantly) surprised by her sudden appearance, showed her the same warmth Arthur did. Even his mother rushed her into the bath in order to cleanse herself of the wet mud, and the woman had bathed Azura herself, much to the girl’s embarrassment. The warmth of a home and the familiarity of a family had crushed Azura as she sat with them as they mumbled their prayers and ate, Arthur egging her to eat more and more.

However, as she laid next to him as the house began to hush and the night awoke, she could not help but cry. The boy, her hero, took notice of her small whimpers and scooted closer to her in the already small bed, wiping tears away as quickly as they fell. He let her cry and cry with a smile on his face every time the tears cleared for a moment. The small, blond boy filled in a small hole she never knew could be filled for the small moment they were together. It was homely, and made her feel so warm that her chest was filled with heat that made her heart pitter patter in the way her heart did with Elise. 

It took her many years to realize that what she was feeling was an appreciation of kindness, and an affection for the people who gave her compassion.

However, as always, her happiness was short. As Azura left the home that she was blessed to witness and be apart of, the guards found her and the boy took the blame for her. He was whipped so hard, the whip cracking into the air with such force that Azura could not bear to watch. Yet, the boy kept the smile on his face whenever they locked eyes, and never wept at the pain. It was her fault, one of the guards said, that this boy had to pity her. Why couldn’t she just run away instead of coming back? They bombarded her with questions that asked her to point out her uselessness and placed her so low that Azura felt her sins crawling on her back. Why must she exist to cause so much grief to everyone?

It was too, too much for her small mind. She would cry and weep in the confines of her room, trying to find a firm grasp of herself in order to tie her to reality. No longer did she escape, nor did she dream of things that could never happen. The girl did not think of the boy, or her mother and her father. She began to pick herself away from the clouds. 

Azura began to widen her eyes and heart to the cruelty of Nohr, to understand it. Azura had to live with what fate brought to her, and there was nothing to do about it. She resigned herself to whatever destiny she must follow, and closed herself away from the kindness that she acted like a beggar for. Her walks around the castle and her visits to Elise began to dwindle until they were no more.

* * *

Then she saw the black king die inside, and witnessed another replace him on the throne. She saw the imposter flap his teeth and mimic the once kind king in perfect mockery, and rage boiled inside her as she began to sing as her mother did. Azura was no longer the invisible girl she made herself to be, and faced the monster with her head held high. The being’s face as she sang to him gave her a look of such scorn that it imprinted in her mind, and she can remember it with such vividness that she recoils at the memory entirely. In fear, the mad king retreated away from her, and made no moves as she is taken to the land where the sun shined harshly against her back.

In the light of Hoshido, Azura burnt to a crisp under the kindness and the heat of the lands. She is introduced fully to the being that called herself Lady Mikoto, who is still mourning over the lost of her husband, her child, and her sister. Azura knows that Lady Mikoto, although kind, cannot hide her desires for her lost child. The blue princess can’t breathe as Mikoto tries to smother her in the love that she left for another. A sadness echoed her being and Azura doesn’t know where she wants to go. Her home has been replaced three times, and each time equally with a sense of lost as she adjusts to a new land with new people.

Her “siblings” accept her casually, but not with the openness that Azura always imagined a family to possess; the openness to which she was shyly given in the form of a dead king and queen. They, the Hoshidans, still mourn for the lost of that other child, especially the elder ones. They show her love, yes, but it was hesitant and still filled with such longing that Azura wants to scream and run and cry. It’s just too much.

She wants to be loved for her, and not for the other who is lost to the winds. However, she silences these desires of hers. It is imprudent to think of herself.  

Azura learns to be selfless in the most effective way where everyone could find happiness. She later learns that her selflessness comes with a fault, and discovers that it morphed into something else without her noticing.

The invisible princess continues her life in the way the gods wished her too: quiet and barely there. She indulges the relations between her and the Hoshidan royal family. Ryoma tries to care for her in the way he takes care of the others, and shows his appreciation in smaller gifts. Though the way they hesitate in how he acts towards her pricks her skin and she is forced to bite her lips in order to keep her silence, for Azura could still sense the sadness within him that she caused every time their eyes locked. 

(He, after all, did nothing to protect the lost child as his father was murdered before his eyes. Perhaps, Azura pondered, he was seeking a path of retribution as he picks up a sword and stands straight with only his beliefs holding him.)

Hinoka desperately tries to involve her in everything, trying to treat her as a sister in a loving and affectionate fashion. The pegasus rider cannot fill the emptiness within Azura, nor can she hide the longing she has for that missing seat that the blue royal has made her own. Azura can only find blame in herself to explain Hinoka’s rashness and dangerous ferocity, as the eldest sister sparks red with each questionable look at the blue princess. It is in Azura’s hopes that Hinoka would not love her so much, because she knows that when that other child and he go back to their homes, Hinoka would be the first to chase after her.

(Even though Azura knows Hinoka truly loves her, there are still strings that push the invisble princess back and into her mind. She wants to trust her new sister, she truly does but with the knowledge that she could not make Princess Hinoka whole kills her slowly inside; to know that she alone would not be enough.)

Takumi, though raised together with Sakura, proceeds to treat her with caution. He is more open to the world of black and white, refusing to look at her with the light he had when he was just a child. As the second youngest, eager to please, he was more impressionable to servants’ gossip, and whole heartedly believed their words of Azura’s lack of belonging. Though his intentions are barely there, and there is a softness to his rough words, the hatred for Nohr was always present even with the people he associated with. Though, despite this, she could remember Prince Takumi the most, with his shy touches and his stuttered words. With Takumi, she can breathe with a freshness that has long become unknown to her. 

(She still fears that someone will force the young prince into a choice: to kill her or to let his country die. Azura knows, without a doubt, he would choose his country before her, but she hopes that if does obtain her life in his hands, she could release him from guilt of this hypothetical choice.)

Sakura, in her blissful ignorance, is the only one who looks at her with a pure love. They hold hands, they sleep in the same bed, and Azura finally understood what it was like to be a “big sister” for longer than a month. Though a smart child, the young shrine maiden also knows something is missing as she looks at Azura. It is the same with the songstress, who faintly lingers to the memory of a bright infant that brought such strong happiness to her core that remains unexplained. 

She lives like this, with her doubts dragging her under, and she wonders each and every day if continuing to wake up was worth the trouble. And each and every day the brightness of Hoshido shows her another side of life that lets Azura understand her mother’s love for life.

Yet, with each revelation, it is not enough to continuously keep her moving.

It’s a painful living, the songstress realizes, as every day she becomes slower in her movements and she finds that she cannot rest well under these excruciating thoughts. There is so much Azura can take, and the arrival of her counterpart was too much to handle. 

Corrin is a kind person, who takes greatly after Lady Mikoto. Though anxious about the change of location, they seemed to adjust well under the bright skies of Hoshido. Azura faintly remembers that she saw them with lingering sadness and envy. How could they continue to live even after the strange events occurring before them? How could they continue on when they know that another family longs for their presence? How could they so easily fit in between the pieces; finishing the puzzle that Azura struggled to complete for years.

It just  _ clicks _ with Corrin, and everything seems right in the world. In  _ their _ world. Azura curls into her shell, building her walls higher and higher as she is consumed with an emptiness that she could never bare to describe. She could only watch on as Corrin becomes the center of the world she stayed so far away from, and she watches as the Hoshidan royalty distance from her and gravitate to the sun that Corrin became.

But didn’t Azura distance herself in preparation for this? Wasn’t she already prepared for this? Yet, it hurt. This lost, that shouldn’t seem like a lost, crumbled her heart and she tore another piece of paper away from her desk as she struggled to pour her feelings into ink.

Despite their charisma, despite the love given to them, Corrin finds themselves encaptured by Azura. For some reason, they believe that the songstress could give them a companionship that the other Hoshidans couldn’t deliver.

“When we’re together, it’s like everything feels right.” Corrin explained, desperately trying to find the words. “I’m at peace with you, I think.”

Azura responds with a flat tone. A cruel response, she thinks, to the lordling sitting beside her. Instead, they give her a patient smile, and the knots tighten harder under her stomach. Her throat finds itself barren from any moisture, and she desperately feels like crying but she cannot bring herself to that point. Tears are something that she lost for many years.

They continue to meet with each other as Corrin’s stay becomes longer and longer, stretching from days to weeks. They don’t seem to long for their home in Nohr, but occasionally they become sick for their siblings. A fondness hides behind their eyes as they speak of them.

Corrin laughs, “they’re wonderful! I wish that we could’ve met in Nohr, because I know they would love you too.”

She shrugs it off, commenting silently and doing more listening than talking. A memory of an infant fades into her sight, but she too shrugs that off. Azura can’t find it in herself to remember, to long, to desire. The young royal talks about Nohr frequently, and the invisible princess can only listen to their tales of the dark kingdom that shined so bright in their eyes. In her mind, Azura makes remarks and comparisons between her experience versus Corrin’s and wonders if the imposter continues to rule over the lands. In the voice of pure bias, Azura could only assume that “Garon” has become a better faker.

Lady Mikoto doesn’t comment about their gradual closeness, looking at them with a maternal kindness that filled Azura with a sensation she couldn’t name, but her siblings pressed the matter with caution. 

Ryoma keeps an eye on the both of them, especially whenever they were near water. Though Azura wondered if he was more fearful for her or Corrin, she doesn’t find the answer to her question in fear of more heartbreak. 

Hinoka seems relieved that the younger princess has the ability to care for another, but there is a jealousy in her thinly pressed lips as the pegasus knight watches them from afar. Azura doesn’t know how to approach Hinoka to confess that she can also hang out with them, so she refrains from speaking at all like she always had. 

Takumi is blazing with rage whenever he sees them, and leaves in a quick huff. Corrin is disgruntled by the prince’s refusal in spending time with them, but Azura has grown far too used to his antics by now. She does take the time to tease Takumi quietly about it, and he leaves more so with an embarrassed huff than actual rage. A comfort pools in her as she watches his retreating back, hunched and ears faintly red. 

Sakura, as always, is sweet to be around. Her love for Azura has yet to change, and with the realization that Corrin was the piece missing, she grows happier with each day. To this, Azura is grateful to be able to witness those smiles. She keeps them safe in the locked box filled with her greedy memories, to look back on to be filled with determination.

In the matter of days, her walls were crashed through and broken into little rubble. Whether this instance is a positive one, Azura had yet to find out.

Lady Mikoto dies in the hands of her beloved, and Azura watches with a certain emptiness and the siblings struggle to handle Corrin in their draconic form. When Takumi pulls out Fujin Yumi, she steps in quietly, and hymn upon her lips so aged that it takes a moment to realize the voice coming out of her mouth was hers. She sings, ignoring Ryoma’s concern for it and blasts him away. Corrin attacks her, and in that instance Azura realizes that her life does not matter to her anymore if that meant everything would be fine.

She tells Corrin this, and they transfer back to their normal self, sobbing and pleading. They hold her in the way a child would hold an adult and cried and cried.

Azura could only rub their back softly in response as she gazes out to the once festive city, crumbled and filled with ash.

Then, in what seemed like a matter of seconds, they were at the border. Corrin desperately trying to convince both sides of their own faults, and to strive for a mutual sense of peace. The Hoshidans grow rapidly impatient, staring fiercely from Corrin to the Nohrians. The blue princess too steals a glance at the almost foreign figures. 

She recognizes Xander, albeit he is taller than she remembers in the fleeting mist of her memories. Azura doesn’t recognize the busty woman next to him, or the man who faintly reminds her of Takumi in the way he furrows his brows. Then her eyes laid upon the blonde girl whose hair was twisted into pigtails. There was a brightness that Azura instantly remembered that hammered her heart. The small infant was no more, instead replaced with a young girl longing for her sibling back that was not Azura.

She imagines that she should found a painful longing in this realization that not one of them remembered her, but she has grown so used to being forgotten and invisible that she doesn’t feel anything. If anything, the distance was for the better, she supposes, so that there would not be further trials for the already split kingdoms.

Though the blue princess wonders if she mistaken this emptiness for something far more breaking.

Yet, Azura watches as she always does, and stands by as Corrin begs for their families to get along. When Ryoma raises his sword, glowing with a faint spark, the invisible princess allows eyes to look upon her when she pushes her other half to the side. Corrin yelps to the ground, and as she stands for the blow, Azura is nicked with a painful scar from the lightning blast Ryoma had meant for the albino. 

Before she knows it, the songstress stands before her Hoshidan siblings and Corrin’s Nohrian ones with a naginata raised, her other hand guarding the fallen lordling, and her mouth ready to sing. She desperately tries to remember the words of power her own mother taught her so long ago. Once she finally grasps them, Azura practically screams as she takes Corrin away from the two kingdoms’ paralyzed gazes and runs as far as her legs carry her.

And they carry her home.


End file.
